


The Beast out of the Sea

by Yellowtaffeta



Category: Tour of the Merrimack - R. M. Meluch
Genre: Augustus being unhelpful, M/M, Time Travel, To shoot or not to shoot, just kiss damn it!, long and rambling, that is the question
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yellowtaffeta/pseuds/Yellowtaffeta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Augustus resists his undeadifying for 8,328 words But John gets his man in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For it is the Number of a Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettymanly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymanly/gifts).



> Tour of the Merrimack is a series written by R.M. Meluch. I don't own nuthin.

If anyone is to be taken captive, 

to captivity he goes; 

If anyone is to be slain with the sword, 

with the sword must he be slain.

 

“Cloke orb idling at 3’oclock.”  Tactical reported and smartly displayed the visual on the monitor.  

Well praise the stars and their various elemental offspring.  Callista Carmel, captain of the USS Monitor class ship the _Merrimack_ scanned the image intently.  Indeed, there it was, a little black orb floating dead in space, starboard off _Merrimack’s_ great spearhead flank.  

“Keep us FTL and send out a drone to nudge that thing.”  She ordered.  

“Yes sir.”  Tactical responded.  The helm set them on a course to keep Merrimack in the neighborhood as the unmanned craft was deployed.  

“Deploy alpha and baker flights to blanket the area.”  She added as an afterthought.  

“Sir are we expecting our little friend to run?”  _Merrimack’s_ XO Ryan ‘Dingo’ asked.  He bounced on the balls of his feet beside her, barely keeping his excitement at their find under control.  The sentiment was shared by the whole deck.  A low hum of giddy energy thrumming though the crew.  Calli shrugged trying to look nonchalant.  Inside her heart fluttered like a school girls.  They’d been sent out here to find the impossible, and they’d done it.  Space was vast and empty.  If something didn’t want to be found then the chances you were gonna find it were zilch, zero, nadda.  Of course their little friend was going to run.  

Beyond that, the object rear admiral Farragut had told them to find was classified mechanically extinct.  _Merrimack_ had been sent to the remote globular cluster IC8704589 deep in the perseid arm to look for cloke orbs of all things.  Calli didn’t have to believe in her orders to be a good captain but she never doubted them when they came from John Farragut.  She believed in them now.  That probably didn’t mean anything good.  

They had been in this remote corner of space for up on a week.  Officially they were searching for signs of roman activity among the mass of heavy weight stars.  Which ment, officially, _Merrimack_ was supposed to be in the deep end, nowhere near where she was.

 

Flight leader Kerry Blue still wasn’t used to commanding her swifts to call in.  Heck, she wasn’t used to commanding her own mouth most days.  “Uhhh…, alpha flight? Are you all sittin pretty where you’re supposed to be?”  It decided to say at that moment.  

“Call in by the numbers.”  The lieutenant colonel of the 89th marine bullmastiffs, Cain Salvador saved her over the com.  

Cain’s promotion had been fast.  Too fast by half said some.  But all attempts to put an outsider in charge of the barking dogs of the _Merrimack_ had met with disaster.  So Cain had been called on to fill the old man’s shoes.  And it worked.  Better than it had any right to.  Even if the official books said he was dead the bullmastiffs where still TR Steele’s marines just as _Merrimack_ was still John Farragut’s ship.  Cain knew that and to the dogs serving under him that was all that mattered.

“Alpha two, sitting pretty as a princess.”  Dak Shepard, big guy, big heart, not so big brain, sounded nothing like a princess.

“Alpha three, if you’re a princess then I’m a cloke’s grandma.”  Geneva Rhine, she had the looks to be the princess but tough as nails she-dog ’Rhino’ would have rather been the cloke’s grandma.

“Alpha four, cloke princess in need of a grandma”  Whip-hard Carly Delgado sang as she closed the box forming around the poor unsuspecting orb as it sat like a duck in their space pond.

“Alpha five, _aqui princesa_.”  Alpha five didn’t speak the english but no one in the 89th cared.  More importantly, no one told.

Kerry had to bite her tongue as the count came to alpha six.  

“Alpha six, uhh, I’m here.”  New guy had taken her well worn number if not her actual crate.  Name was Chen Zhou.  One of those ‘how long you been in america?  Do you speaken the english?’ asians that turned around and told you they’d been in the states their whole life and yes they could speaken thank you very much.  Didn’t know a lick of anything other than americaneise.  Kid was cute in a ‘I’m way to young for this sort’ of way.  Alpha flight called him puppy face. 

“Alpha seven, Is this supposed to be a joke on the hamster’s new boat?”  Big burly boxer type, Asante Adai rounded out the numbers.

Asante hadn’t known Glen Hull Hamilton, the hamster, that long before she’d been given her own command but the ship was rife with stories of the petit lieutenant.  Couldn’t really tell a story on the _Mack_ without mentioning her.  

“If anything’s gonna happen, it’ll happen on the hamster’s watch.”  All the fun stuff flew when the lieutenant was around.  Still did.  Her boat the _Redfox_ , often misnamed the Princess by those that knew its captain was an intelligence ship of the fleet.  It had been the Fox that first scented something not right in this hole in the wall star cluster.

“This got nothing to do with the lieutenant.”  Kerry fumbled with her controls glad none of them could see her cheeks heating.  

Baker called in much faster and quicker than Alpha making her flush harder.  For the millionth time Blue wondered what snot for brains had made her flight leader.  

“No one’s sitting on their disks are they?”  Cain over the com again. 

 “Nooooo sir.”

“Nope”

“Not even on.”

“No way _chico_.”

“No.”

“Where is my disk…?”

“Not a chance.”

No one was keen to be caught in whatever shit storm had swallowed the colonel.  

It had been two years since TR Steele had been raptured.  At least that was what the stiffs upstairs said happened.  Kerry Blue knew better.  Her old man was alive out there somewhere.  And she would get him back.  Rip him straight from god’s side if she had to.  

Wondered what he would say if she told him- WHEN she told him, she was now a flight leader.  There would be lots of shouting, his whole head would turn bright cherry red, but deep down she knew he’d be proud.  

Sniffing she blinked sparkles from her eyes.  Almost missed the voice from baker one.  

“Thar she blows!”  

Little lost orb had shot off to the right.  Baying like dogs the swifts where after it.

 

The drone scanned the orb with all it had bar a resonant ping.  If this thing was responding to anyone or anything chances were a res pulse would set it off like a rabbit before the hounds.  

Data came back to tactical’s station where the machines fed the numbers through the system.  They came together on the screen as a big black ball of nothing.  

Calli frowned.  “Mr. Vincent do we have a record of the old cloke orb in the system.”  

“Sure do.”  Tactical officer Marcander Vincent forgot his sir as he rooted through _Merrimack’s_ data banks.  

Soon a picture of the old cloke orb Cain Salvador had punted back to the ship sat beside its would be twin.  The difference was striking.  A mass of bright lights and a stark flash of the wavelength for hydrogen in a vacuum showed on the old picture, this new one was just a dark blob of nothing.  

“Do we have a visual of the little guy?”  Dingo asked.  

Immediately the screens switched to an actual view of the dark sphere as it hung in space.  The drone moved around to show all sides.  There it was, a three toed footprint stamped right on the hard shell.  

“Oh now isn’t that cute.  Some one thinks they’re being funny.”  said Calli.  

“So we are to assume this isn’t actually a cloke orb?”  Said Dingo Ryan.  

“And I’m a rat’s ass.”  The captain was already moving across the deck to watch over tactical’s shoulder.  

“Cain have your boys on the alert.”  

“Yes sir.”  The marine commander acknowledged.  

“Now Mr. Vincent, Lets give our friend a little ping.”  The captain was intent as a cat, the whole deck tensing with her as Mr. Vincent sent out a res pulse on a random harmonic.  

“Whoooo!  There it goes!”  Tactical whooped.  Chatter from the swifts flitted over the com as the small crafts ripped after the now quickly accelerating ball. 

“Ho crackers that’s fast!”  

“Get round it!”  

“Bet it pops like a balloon.”  

“No popping!  We need that target in one piece.”  Cain pulled on his dogs from the flight deck.  

“No one gets to have fun anymore.”  

The chatter was interrupted by a loud ‘Mine-eeeeeeee!”  Sounded like someone had been hit.  Sounded like Kerry Blue.  

“Alpha one you out there?”  Cain shouted.  Nothing could happen to Kerry Blue.  Not on Cain Salvador’s watch.  It was a ship wide secret that Blue was Steele’s.  Didn’t matter if the old man was dead, kidnapped or resigned.  Blue was still Steele’s.  Once upon a time the colonel had told him to get Blue clear and Cain intended to keep doing just that.  Wasn’t easy when the woman liked to get herself in a horse load of boloney every chance she got.  “

Uurgh, spinning.”  There was Blue, ever the eloquent one.  “Tried playing ball like you did last time sir.  That’s no ball.”  Said Kerry.  

Calli rounded on tactical.  “That things got energy fields now?”  

Mr. Vincent shrugged.  “Could.  Can’t tell from the scan we got.  I’d guess yes?”  

Completely unhelpful.  But if the swifts couldn’t bump it or break it there was nothing to do but keep up with it.  Captain Carmel didn’t fancy where it might be leading them. 

“Mr. Dorset get me engineering.”  Said Calli.  

Communications officer Red Dorset put Head Engineer Kit Kittering on the com.  

“How’s that new hook looking?”  Call asked.  

“Set to frisk up our fornicating little friend out there any time Captain.”  Kit supplied along with a heavy dose of F words.  

“Captain are we really sure we want to use the new hook for something like this?”  Commander Ryan cautioned.  What if we got eyes on us?  Calli got it.  Appreciated what Mr. Ryan was trying to say.  Said.  

“Rome will find out soon enough.”  If they hadn’t already.  “Colonel have your birds return.  Engineering deploy bubble hook.”  

“Yes Sir!”  Kit chirped.  

Targeting fed the numbers into his computer as the marines whined about the recall over the com.  

“Target acquired.  Sending bubble hook.”  Deck held it’s breath as the energy lasso stretched out from the ships hull.  

“Needs a better name than bubble hook.”  Someone muttered.  They were right.  But bubble described the new hook accurately.  Hooking things the old way brought them inside the _Mack’s_ own shields.  A self destruct inside the ship’s shields would spell game over.  Never in a million years would they be hooking an unidentified hostile the old way.  A lasso would have worked as it didn’t bring the target within the shields.  But a lasso was only half as strong as a hook and ten times easier to break.  The new hook created a pocket around the target.  Isolating it in it’s own little space.  Better yet, no outside transmissions could reach the captured craft.  No remote self destruct commands would be coming.  

“Hook away.”  The deck watched the tendril of energy reach out from the _Mack_ ’s hull like a hand and fold around the fleeing orb.  

“Hook secured!”  Targeting crowed as the bubble closed around the orb, engulfing it in two layers of energy field.  

Letting out a breath Calli ordered the orb reeled in.  Saw to the removal of it’s engine, and handed it over to engineering.  All swifts secured, all marines accounted for, _Merrimack_ steered herself on a course into the middle of back door nowhere.  The stars were quiet.  No one was ever there.

 

Nox responded to Leo’s call along with the rest of his brothers.  Striding into the control room he found Cinna already there, plugged into the ship while Leo hunched over his instruments.  Cinna stared blindly ahead eyes dark and hollow so Nox directed his question to Leo.  

“What have the recorders found oh best beloved?”  “It’s not what the recorder found brother but who found it.”  Said Leo.  

That shouldn’t be a problem.  Their targets where using cloke orb lookalikes to explore the star cluster they shouldn’t be interested in the odd extra piece of equipment.  Puzzled Nox waited for someone to explain.

Slow, mechanical, Cinna unplugged himself from _Bagheera_.  “ _Merrimack_ is here.”  Said the patterner.  

 

“in short your ’cloke orb’,” Said Weng

“Is nothing more than a big recorder.”  Said Ski.

“A recorder?”  Calli couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice.

Ski: “Yes.  With a few other attachments”

Weng: “Small resonant chamber.”

Ski: “Big energy shield.”

“Big enough to bounce a swift?”  Calli pressed.

Weng: “Big enough to bounce a SPIT boat.”

The captains perfect eyebrows rose.

“Best yet,”  The two xenos glanced at each other, neither sure who got to dish out the big news.

“It has hologram and stealth programs!”  Ski finally blurted.

“Similar to a Xerxes.” Weng finished.

If Calli’s eyebrows could ascend into her hair line they would have.  Praise the sun and stars almighty _Merrimack_ might have found her Romans after all.  Question was, which ones.

 

John Farragut’s face over the com in the captains quarters showed a man in his early forties.  Blond hair, blue eyes, small lines around them that you could tell were from smiling.  The rear admiral had aged, if not well than at least acceptably.  No one really remembered his american sweetheart looks anyway.  What people remembered about John Alaxander Farragut was the energy that seemed to surround him like a cloud.  Made you think you were awesome, that you would be awesome for this man.  

He’d taken Calli’s call right as it came in, the long lines of a bridge could be seen stretching behind him as birds wheeled over head.  

“So you found Rome.”  Said John.  He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t frowning either.  Eyes looked sharp as he thought.  

“I found A Rome.”  Said Calli.  

Not many were aware of the fact that there was currently more than one Rome running around out there.  Caesar Numa’s Rome was THE Rome but mad Ceasar Romulus had agents acting under his name to this day.  The existence of the Romulii should have been easy to dismiss as ridiculous fiction.  Callista Carmel knew better.  A mole for the mad Ceaser had been flushed from _Merrimack’s_ decks only last year.  The erk she-dog had put up formidable resistance before the literal dogs had gotten her.  Still left Calli with a nasty taste in her mouth.  

“Which Rome is it Cal?” He asked her.  

Problem was Calli wasn’t sure.  And after talking to the xenos she had a crazy idea.  Leaning back she ran her hand through her long chestnut locks.  

“John I think we’ve got the ninth circle.”  That perked John Farragut right up.  

“Don’t play games Cal.  Hard enough to make piece with Nox once.  Don’t resurrect a dead man.”  

The admiral’s eyes darkened at the thought of his baby brother and Calli kicked herself for bringing that kind of hurt to John’s face.  Only thing to do was forge ahead.  She told him about the stealth field and the holograms.  

“Would make sense of some of the weird readings tactical’s been getting lately too.  If Rome has the specs on the Xerxes then they now have its stealth too.”  She finished.  That was a terrifying thought.  

John Farragut shivered.  “If it had such good stealth why wasn’t it on when you flew past?”  He questioned.  

She had a good answer for this.  “Someone was being arrogant.  Hologram systems were running.  Don’t think they can employ stealth and holo at the same time.”  

“That seems like the stupid choice out of the two.”  Said John.  Call nodded agreement.  

“Unless whoever that cloke orb was ment for would have wanted to SEE a cloke orb.”  

Farragut hummed.  “Cal I think you got Romes plural out there.”  

 _Merrimack’s_ Captain Carmel was unreasonably pretty.  Could swear like the ugliest around.  “They’re stalking each other aren’t they?”  

John looked grave as a Farragut could. Nodded.  “Right cock fight we stumbled into.”  

“What are we going to do?”  Asked Calli with a sigh.  

“Don’t frown Cal, you’re too pretty to be making that face.”  And there was the infamous Farragut grin.  It shone brighter than the sun.  “No one knows you’re there yet.  Might as well poke around a bit.”  He winked.  It was true, for being a battleship of over 540ft _Merrimack_ sure liked to poke her nose into everything.  

Calli looked regal even while snorting.  “Aye Aye sir.  I will stick my ridiculously long nose into Romes’, plural and possessive, business.”  She saluted.  

“Keep me up to speed captain.”  John Farragut signed out with a smile.

 

Corindahlor was a pretty boring star system aside from the bridge where the valiant Roman tenth had made their stand.  John Farragut had only been once before at the end of the war four years earlier.  Hadn’t had to ask Jose Maria de Cordillera to stop there the second time.  The aging nobel laureate just had.  It was on the way back to earth anyway.  

The Farragut’s had been on holiday with Jose Maria to a US colony in near space.  Now they were on the ground at the Corindahlor bridge.  Kathy had asked no questions which John had been thankful for.  The kids were just happy to be spending more time with their godfather.  

John had stood on the bridge while he talked to Calli.  Glad for the moment it gave him to collect himself before he faced the monument of the Roman tenth.  

There was the name, just as it had been the last time he was here.  

Cyprian Flavius Cassius.  

Didn’t know why he’d thought it would move.  

He’d come to say hello to Agustus but Calli’s call left Nox’s name floating in his head.  His little brother, John Knox Farragut Jr., Nox.   Nox was dead.  He probably would have liked to be on a wall like this somewhere.  

“What are you thinking young admiral?”  Jose Maria stopped beside him.  Hands clasped at his back.  He looked at the names on the monument as if he knew them all.  

Jose Maria was a man of refinement and regal bearing.  Tall, thin, composed, creeping old age did nothing to detract from the striking figure he cut.  Silver hair gleamed at his temples and peppered through the stands of his ponytail where it was held neatly at his neck by a matching silver clasp.  In possession of infinite patience Don Cordillera waited as John Farragut composed himself.  

“Ever had trouble believing someone was gone?”  Jose Maria was silent.  John felt like an idiot.  “Course you have.”  Ducked his head.  

“Augustus would be flattered.”  Jose Maria said after a moment.  

“Would curse me from his grave you mean?”  Said John.  

“I believe you once told me that Augustus ‘crabbed a lot’ John.  He may blaspheme you verbally.  Does not change Cyprian Flavius Cassius, or his actions.”  

John Farragut nodded.  Silence bounced between them like a res pulse.  On the bridge a child giggled happily.  

“Calli says Nox is alive.”  Said John.  

Jose Maria didn’t blink.  “Shall we go bring him home?”  

As the Farragut’s left the bridge of Corindahlor John ran his fingers over the name lightly.  No holograms or disembodied voices greeted him.  Believing Nox was dead was hard.  Believing Augustus was dead was somehow harder.

 

The racing Yaht _Mercedes_ swung by earth to unload a woman and her two children.  Kathy Farragut watched as the small craft lifted up with her husband still inside.  Being apart was not her choice.  But some things in the universe were fixed.  John Farragut would come back to her, it was inevitable.

 

It was deep in the middle of _Merrimack_ ’s night.  Hamster watch.  Her com flared to life.  Calli didn’t know why she bothered sleeping.  

“Captain on deck.”  A marine at the door announced as Calli made her entrance onto the flight deck.  

“What have you got for me Mr. Arlington?”  Jamie Arlington was the new hamster.  Had the hamster’s bone structure.  Not much else in common.  Jamie was tall and thin as a willow, dark curls swept high off his forehead gave him a regal air.  Others said it made him look forever surprised.  

Jamie nodded her over to tactical.  No Mr. Vincent at this hour though Calli would very much like to send him back down to third watch.  Young girl sat vibrating in her chair as she saluted the captain formally.  

“Sir our sensors are picking up a lot of far out blackholes.”  

That pulled her up short.  Of all the things for this to be about wormholes hadn’t even been on her list.  Calli looked around the deck for someone who had been at globular cluster IC9870986 to confirm the readings.  

Oord Johnson, the cryptotech met her eyes, nodded.  “Readings are identical to the myriad.”  He confirmed.  

“Well then!”  Calli took a deep breath.  Rome she could deal with.  Two Romes she could deal with.  Temporal paradox was not something she’d come equipped to counter.  “Get Admiral Farragut on the com.”

 

“So soon Cal?  What has the _Mack_ flown into?”  John Farragut’s face greeted the deck over the com.  “Better not have crashed her.”  

“Nothing yet sir.”  Calli chose to ignore the last part.  “And you better hope it stays that way.  We’ve got wormholes over here.”  

“Really?” Farragut’s surprise bordered on disbelief.  The collapsing wormholes of the myriad had been an isolated occurrence.  No other reports of a similar situation had ever surfaced.  But John Farragut would never doubt his men.  This was not a matter of belief it was a matter of see the target, acquire the target, secure the target.  Rome was out there with access to a frightening new arsenal with universe altering side effects.  

“Hold your position captain, I’m on my way.”  Farragut signed off.

 

The Xerxes had been refitted with actual weapons.  _Bagheera_ had been refitted with rather a lot after Rome had broken him down to learn the his secrets.  Rebuilt, the Italian consulate’s ship was no longer Italian, no longer civilian, no longer equipped only to defend.  

Nox watched the _Merrimack_ on the screen his finger poised casually over the controls that would send a flurry of angry hornets after her.  Didn’t take it.  Wouldn’t have worked anyway.  _Mack’s_ energy shields were colossal.  No ordinance the Xerxes was carrying would make a difference against that.  

They’d already redistributed the listing devices after the yanks had somehow managed to hook one.  Would sorely like to know how they’d managed that.  

Sliding into the chair beside him Pallas joined the watch.  “Cinna says we should leave it be.”  He spoke to the screen.  

Somehow Nox still held sway with his brothers.  There had been no jostling for the top spot.  The law of the jungle was that the biggest and the baddest would lead.  They had all expected the patterned to be the biggest baddie but Cinna showed no interest in leading the brother’s he’d saved.  Nox gave the orders, Cinna made sure they happened.  

“Tell Cinna if he says, he should say it to me.”  He growled.  

Wasn’t being fair to Pallas but Cinna avoided him.  The others said he was imagining things.  That Cinna avoided them all.  But Nox knew it was him.  Didn’t need a patterner to see that.  

Collecting himself to his regal height Pallas turned to go.  

“Tell the others to keep watching the decoys.  We’ll keep _Merrimack_ in our sights a while longer.”  

From the doorway Pallas nodded, left.  

Falling back in his chair Nox glowered at the spearhead shape on the screen.  He made the calls but Cinna was always right.

 

Plotting all the wormholes took time.  There where an awful lot of them riddling the cluster like a beehive.  No one knew where they went.  Didn’t dare find out for fear of triggering a collapse.  The numbers showed the plots already shrinking slowly.  

Careful now not to fly into a pit _Merrimack_ returned to her original mission.  Find Rome.  Or at the very least find Cloak orbs.  

The audio that had been lifted off their first catch was unhelpful.  Full of their own marine’s chatter and nothing else.  Space had been dead silent till they came.  

Engineering calculated the hearing range of the equipment.  It was big.  

“Where they trying to blanket the whole foxtrotting cluster?”  Dingo Ryan asked.  It sounded ridiculous when you said it out loud.  Had nothing else to go on.  

“Take us back to ground zero and lets do a pass for another Imposter.”  Calli ordered.  

They were calling the listening devices Imposters since they tried to look like Cloke orbs.  _Merrimack_ cut through space, running dark.  Mapped an area the size of the Imposters range just next to the first one they’d found.  Found nothing.  

“Guess that means we where wrong”  Said Commander Ryan.  

“It means one of two things.”  Said Calli.  “Bring all shields to maximum and raise the alert level one.”  She barked to the personal on duty.  “Someone knows we’re here.”  

She stalked the deck in long graceful strides.  Looked like a lioness.  

“What else sir?”  Dingo Ryan paced behind her at an acceptable distance.  

“Tactical pull up a view of the wormholes in the area.”  A map blinked onto the screen patched here and there with orange.  Tactical manipulated the image to overlap with _Merrimack’s_ current location.  

Calli wasn’t too surprised with what she saw.  No wonder the _Mack_ hadn’t noticed the wormholes from her original position.  This edge of the cluster there was only one orange plot.  She’d seen this before.  

“Helm keep us close to that rabbit hole over there.  We’ll wait for admiral Farragut here.”  

 

The Roman intelligence agent cursed at his station.  

“What is it?”  The vigil of the watch was immediately at his side.  Pointing at his screen the man didn’t need to say a word.  _Merrimack_ showed bright and angry on the monitor circling jump point one.  It was the vigil’s turn to curse.  

“ _Quam in infernum viventes?!_ ”  All the intelligence man could do was shake his head.  Shake from head to toe.  What in the living hell indeed.  He knew what came next.  

The vigil stood, face grim.  That was their destination.  They needed to go through it to reach Zoe.  So the reconnaissance orbs had told them.  And in the name of Ceaser Romulus go they would.

 

Alarms blared through _Merrimack’s_ decks sending all Marines and personnel scrambling to their stations.  An unidentified ship had been spotted on a crash course with the rabbit hole.  Unidentified IFF.  Ignored all attempts to hail or warnings to turn away.  

Kerry Blue swung into her swift along with her team.  Got the right swift this time.  Didn’t bite her tongue on the elevator up.  Got her wing to call in by the numbers without Cain’s help.  Hoo bloody ra.  

A bright orange blot showed on her instruments where the hole was.  

“No one get distracted by the carrot.”  Cain’s voice warned over the com.  

“Yes sir!”  

Kerry Blue hadn’t been through the wormhole with her squad back at the myriad.  Had been too busy seducing alien dignitaries and getting drowned in a pound.  At least that’s what she thought she remembered.  But the reports from the rest of her team didn’t make it sound at all a good idea.  

“Spread out to intercept unknown craft.”  She sent to alpha flight.  

“Like butter on bread.”  That was Dak, ever ready to think about food.  

“Like peanut butter an jelly.”  

“Like cheese on crackers.”  

“Oooh getting fancy there mr. Adai.”  

Alpha flight surrounded the target bouncing sandwich and salad orders between them.  

“No idle chatter on the com.”  Cain killed their fun.  It was now Cain’s job to kill their fun.  Hard to take when they knew Cain wanted a sandwich same as them.  

“Fire a warning shot.”  Came Calli’s voice over the com.  

Kerry nosed her craft to the left of the ship.  Didn’t bother to tag it.  

“Firing warning.”  

Sent a shot close enough you could see it through the ship’s windows.  

“Target has not slowed.”  Reported Asante.  

“Consider ship hostile.  Do not let it pass through the rabbit hole.”  Said Calli.  

With a great whoop the swifts opened fire.  Tag’s stuck and beams hit but the target’s shields held.  _Merrimack_ was rolling out the big guns when the hostile boat finally opened a com link between them.  “Cease fire!  We are a civilian ship.  You have no right to shoot us!”  

“And I’m a fox’s tail.”  Muttered Commander Ryan.  The callers voice had a distinct Roman lilt.  

Captain Carmel had an answer ready.  “Sir, civilian or no you are headed straight for a wormhole.  Under international law I must stop you.  Either halt or change course if you want us to cease firing.”  

International law didn’t mean Roman law.  Calli had dared them to show their colors.  

“We have Adamas on board let us past or we will shoot him.”  

An image appeared on the screen.  Man, early forties, white skin, white blond hair, bulldog build lay sleeping under a glass case.  Couldn’t tell what color his eye’s were but Calli had no doubt they were a striking pale blue.  

She blinked.  The whole ship had gone silent around her.  

“Well that was a fast about face!”  Said Marcander Vincent.  

Cain sucked in a breath hard.  Didn’t think he could order TR Steele’s marines to shoot TR Steele.  Knew he couldn’t order Alpha flight leader Kerry Blue to shoot TR Steele.  

Calli flicked the com to silent.  Took a deep breath.  Said, “For the love of god.”  

Flicked the com to marine channels.  “All guns fire on the hostile Roman target.”  

There was a lot more noise coming from the Roman boat now.  Cain clutched the com like a life line.  None of the swifts had heard the threat.  He didn’t trust himself to talk to them right now.  Hand on his shoulder made him start.  

“Do you need to be removed Lieutenant Colonel?”  Calli asked not unkindly.  

Cain swallowed, tried to find his voice.  “How can you just tell them to shoot?!” He croaked.  The captain’s exquisite face hardened for a moment.  “We don’t know if that’s really him.”  

“If it is?”  Couldn’t help but ask.  

Calli took a deep breath.  “What would the old man tell you to do?”  

Didn’t have to think about that one.  Cain closed his eyes.  Pried stiff fingers off the com.  “He’d tell us to shoot.”  

Calli gave his shoulder a pat.  “So we’re shouting.  You gonna be ok?”  

He nodded.  “Just don’t tell…”  Kerry Blue.  

“I won’t.”  Calli understood.

 

Kerry knew something was wrong when the captain gave the order.  Knew it in her bones but couldn’t figure what.  Fired on the hostile ship anyway.  

“Greetaaaaa!”  Dak must be smashing the controls.  Shot after shot left alpha two. 

“Get it!  Get it! Grrrrraa!”  Rhino swung by for a pass.  

“Woah you see that?”  The Yurg from Baker flight.  

Yes Kerry had seen that.  Targets energy shield had fuzzed for a second there.  Needed to make it do that again.  

“Tagged! Awww.”  

“Mine!”  

“Got a tone!”  

Kerry felt oddly distant form all the chatter.  

And still the ship was getting closer and closer to the rabbit hole.  The energy shield bucked again.  This time someone’s shot made it through.  

The Roman ship spun belching out smoke.  Shields went back up but the damage was done.  Still headed for the wormhole, it was unclear whether someone was still alive to steer or if the ship was flying true on dead engines.  Antimatter hadn’t blown yet.  

Swifts raced to be the one to get the kill shot before it entered the wormhole.  Looked like alpha four had it till Carly reared off to the side with a screech.  The wreckage hit the rabbit hole and blinked out of existence.  

“Carly girl!  Talk to me!  Why’d we loose it?”  Kerry cried to alpha four.  

“Roman’s spat something at me _chica linda_.  Slammed right into my cowcatcher.”  Alpha five flew wingtip with Carly as she came round to search for her roman spit.  

“All swifts return to roost.”  Cain finally returned over the com.  

“Wait!  Carly says she has something.”  Said Kerry.  

“Alpha four what you got?”  

“Not sure sir.  Roman bird threw something at me as she dived.”  The rest of alpha and baker flights joined Carly scouring the area.  

“Wreckage?”  Dingo Ryan questioned.  

“Nu’uh, had it’s own energy field.”  Carly’s sensors picked that up.  

“Life pods?”  Asked Calli.  

“Maybe?  Was real small to be a life pod.  …There!”  _Mack’s_ sensors saw what alpha four saw.  Two small rectangles flying away from the crash in the direction the Roman boat had flung them.  One of them was heading off at a different angle and a slower speed.  Carly had nosed that one.  

“Good work.  Return to ship and we’ll pick up the surprise boxes.”  Cain still sounded like he had a cold.

 

Hooking a box and pulling it abroad proved easy with the new bubble hook.  Went for the one Carly had smacked first.  Box had no engine.  Was emitting a res pulse on an unknown harmonic.  Disabled that real fast.  Pulled back the outer layer to reveal what Mohsen Shaw called an ice box.  

No one could believe what was inside.  

“I am thinking we pulled the wrong popsicle out of the wrong freezer.”  Said Mo.  No one could think of a better way of putting it.

 

En route to the second box Calli called John Farragut aboard the _Mercedes_.  “You are going to think me a child calling for her parents.”  She sighed.  

“Never.  Tell me what’s got you looking so out of sorts.”  John smiled.  Calli couldn’t bring herself to smile back.  

“Well John, the short version is that we picked up a new passenger.”  

“Oh?”  

Calli rubbed her temples with long slim fingers.  Could feel the headache coming on.  

“You are not going to believe me.”  She muttered.  

John on the monitor arched a brow.  “Try me Cal.”  

Sitting up she swallowed.  “Our new guest is mad Caesar Romulus.  Also… the wormholes are starting to collapse.”

 

News spread fast on a ship like the _Mack_.  Down in the hanger Carly was flapping her skinny arms like a bird.  

“You mean to tell me I smacked the mad king right on the nose!”  Her stick arms waved as she rounded to look at Twitch Fuentes, alpha five.  

The poor man’s eyes got real big and he shook his head.  Looked like Twitch didn’t have anything to say in either language at the moment.  

“Wonder who’s gonna be in the other box.”  Kerry pondered.  She wasn’t very good at pondering.  Looked around for help.  

Asante shrugged.  Rhino was no help, still mad that Romulus had been left breathing.  The new kid was too busy getting chewed out for some crud found on his crate.  Left Dak, Carly and Twitch.  Of the three, one was mute,  the other in shock and everyone knew Dak was even worse at pondering than Kerry.  

He tried anyway.  “Maybe it’s the crazy sister?  What’s her name?”  

“Claudia.” Asante supplied.  Woulda thought he was smart but he had his omni out.  “Nah, no one cares about her.  Everything I got says she was a raging bitch.”  

“Bet Calli would like it if it was her.”  Rhino cackled.  

“You don’t think…”  Eyes wide, Carly swung to look at Twitch again.  

Twitch cocked his head for a moment before his eyes bugged out of their sockets.  Carly’s face split into an excited grin.  

“Want to share that thought with the rest of us?”  Kerry needled.  she didn’t like the suspense.  “What if it’s…”  Carly sank down to a whisper and Kerry had to ask again.  “What?”  

“What if it’s Steele?!”  She finally caught.  Stomach did a flip felt like her insides were suddenly depressurized.  Lost which way was up.  

“That’s stupid, why would the lupes have the old man in an ice box?”  Asante was too busy reading from his omni to look up at Kerry’s ashen face.

“Yeah that’s right.”  She heard her voice saying.  Wasn’t listening to her again.  Unfolding to stand on a deck she couldn’t feel Kerry turned to the ladder.  

“I’m gonna go see Cain.  Be back in a bit.” 

“Oh, _chica linda_.”  Carly watched her go.  Wished she hadn’t said anything at all.  

 

Finding Cain was easy.  Leader of the 89th was given the same rooms no matter who they were.  And it would be a lie if Kerry Blue said she didn’t know where those rooms where.  Rapped on the door with knuckles she couldn’t feel.  Waited for it to open.  Didn’t have to wait long.  

Cain swung the hatch open.  Face did something funny when he saw her standing there.  

Cain was built like a seal, real athletic, reasonably smart good at a bit of everything.  Real bad at talking to anything that was about to cry.  

Kerry swallowed.  Needed to say something but her voice was MIA.  

“Oh, girl don’t get your hopes up.”  

Sniffing she tried to suck back tears.  Knew it was useless, she had been blessed with too much estrogen not to cry.  Cain looked decidedly awkward.  Still let her cry herself out into his shirt.

 

Calli wouldn’t leave the deck till the second box was on board.  John was due any moment now so staying killed two birds with one stone.  The ships legal officer Rob Roy Buchanen paid a visit to put a cup of coffee into her hands.  Sipping the black as deep space concoction Calli waited.  

“Target in sight.”  Third watch’s green tactical officer announced.  Then a “Huh.”  Calli didn’t like huh’s.  

Setting the cup down she strode toward tactical’s station.  “Talk to me Mr. Roseland.”  

“Sir!”  The girl’s fingers flew to blow the image up for the screen.  “Looks like our box is moving.  Someone’s got it in a hook!”   

“Who?  Who’s hook?”  She breathed down the tactical’s neck.  

“Tracing hook…”  Mr. Roseland’s brows drew together.  “No one sir, there’s no one at the end of the hook!”  

“Try again.”  Dingo Ryan frowned.  

“No need.”  Calli faced the emptiness of space.  Right now it was lit up with a million stars crunched close together like sardines in a tin.  

“Sir?” Tactical asked.  

“There’s only one thing in space that has perfect stealth.”  They’d found the Xerxes.  _Merrimack_ was about to descend into the ninth circle of hell.  “Mr. Dorset, get me engineering.”  

Kit popped up on the com after a moment.  She hadn’t stayed up for third watch.  

“Mr. Kittering, how big does our fancy new hook get?” 

Kit smiled wickedly.  This was the kind of thing that got engineers excited.  “Not for fornicating sure.  Damn good time to test it.”  

Calli wanted to rub her eyes, that was not the reassuring response she’d been looking for.  Would have to do.  

“Targeting estimate parameters of unknown ship based on its hook.  Engineering prepare to deploy bubble hook.”  

“Yes sir!”  Came the response.  Precious seconds slipped by as the rogue box sped away and the wormholes shrank.  

Finally Tactical finished feeding numbers into her screen.  “Hook away.”  Engineering reported.  It was at that moment the racing yacht _Mercedes_ hailed the _Merrimack_.

 

John found himself looking at an odd scene while he waited for Calli to respond to his hail.  His ship, the _Merrimack_ not the _Mercedes_ , was following a tiny box, deploying a hook around empty space.  

“What are they doing?”  He wondered aloud.  

“It looks as if they are fishing and the fish are invisible.”  Jose Maria spoke lightly.  

The importance of invisible fish was not lost on John Farragut.  Heart rate accelerating he urged the racing yacht faster with his thoughts.  Nox was alive.  And where there was life hope sprung eternal.  

“It may not be wise to get too close to _Merrimack_ while she is on the hunt.”  Don Cordillera cautioned.  “At least wait for her to return our hail.”  

He could see the sense in that.  Solid enough it could smack him in the face.  John smacked himself in the face a lot.

 

“Little busy here John!”  Calli took one eye off the expanding hook to greet the admiral.  

“What are you trying to catch there Cal?”  John Farragut thrummed with energy over the link.  

“Hook has stopped expanding.  Closing around established parameters.”  Tactical kept a running commentary.  

“Not sure.  Might be another Romulus.”  She looked back at the coffin shaped rectangle.  Might be our old man coming home.  Couldn’t bring herself to say it.  No one could bring themselves to say the name TR Steele.  

“Hook closing, hook closing.  Got something!”  Tactical shot up from her chair.  Showed the captain where the hook was bulging unnaturally around nothing.  

“We got them!”  Commander Ryan crowed.  Sounded like he didn’t believe it.  She didn’t believe it either.  Red lights flashed on the screen.  

“Unknown has released the ice box from it’s hook!”  Not until the last dog dies, not until the last door closes.  

“They’re running!  Someone catch me my pirates!”  Calli cried.  

Tactical clacked away at her station, targeting scanned the area no one found anything.  

“Why would they just let go?!”  Dingo Ryan couldn’t understand.  Why indeed.  

Calli stood stiff her eyes going wide.  Made a mad dash for the open connection with the _Mercedes_ that had been left to idle.  

“John get out of here now!”  She screamed.

 

Calli’s panicked voice was all that John Farragut needed to here.  Jose Maria was reaching for the controls to send the ship FTL.  But all the warning in the world saved no one if it came to late.  A beam slammed into _Mercede’s_ shields.  Rocked her hard.  Around him the little ship whined.  

 

The decision to drop mad Romulus had been hard.  No one had expected the _Merrimack_ to try hooking them.  Except for maybe Cinna.  But Cinna wasn’t saying if he had.  That should have been suicide.  _Merrimack_ was too smart to commit suicide.  So something was up.  At Nox’s word Leo had dropped their hook and run like a bat out of hell.  

Now Cinna decide to speak.  “Small civilian craft in _Merrimack_ ’s wake.”  

Nox saw a way to salvage the situation.  “Open fire on the small craft.”  He ordered.  

Orissus whooped happily as he got to fire _Bagheera’s_ new gun port.  

“What are we doing?”  Pallas asked.  

“We are making a comeback oh best beloved.”  Nox bared his teeth.  That box had a fifty fifty chance of being Romulus.  Caesar Numa wanted it.  And the way Nox saw it, what Numa wanted Numa got.  

“Force them to drop the box and defend the civilian.”  Sounded like Galeo got it.  The air on board crackled as _Bagheera_ fired on the small ship.  

“Who’s all the way out here anyway?”  Nox leaned over Leo to see the IFF.  Went cold.  

“Calls herself the _Mercedes_.  Anyone heard of her before?”  Said Leo.  

Nox had.  They all had.  Had seen the sleek little racing yacht with their own eyes.  Faunus had said he wanted it.  _Mercedes_ was Don Cordillera’s ship.  

“ _Merrimack_ has released her hook on the box!”  Leo’s voice broke.  Now free to attack _Merrimack_ was opening her dark maw.  Nox couldn’t move.  

Someone pinged the resonance chamber.  He’d seen that harmonic before.  Had used it to call John Farragut on his personal channel.  Told him he was dying.  Vaguely he was aware of Cinna’s larger body behind his.  Heard his brother’s voice over the com.  Not sure who took the call.  

“John!  Don’t shoot!”  

Why of all times did his brother have to screw up now?  

Didn’t feel his lips move.  Heard his voice say, “Shoot.”  

As the _Mercedes_ exploded soundlessly in the vacuum of space Nox felt a tingle at the back of his neck.  Cinna brushed a kiss to his skin.

 

Unnoticed by the _Merrimack_ , her sails at half mast, disregarded by the Xerxes class ship _Bagheera_ lurking among the close knit stars, recording device 333 sped through space.  Hit by the wreckage of a small racing yacht the orb was traveling at a decent clip into the center of the globular cluster.  In a few years it would be trapped by a star’s gravity and cease its travels.  

A few years never happened.  Two days from its original position recording device 333 blinked out of existence still carrying it’s dying message.  “John!  Don’t shoot!”


	2. Viginti Unus

Fresh out of the deep end the USS Monitor class ship  _Merrimack_  circled the Roman world Telecore.  Former Roman world.  All life on Telecore had been snuffed out by the hive and then by a neutron hose.  Rome wasn’t claiming the planet as theirs anymore.  The hive was.  

John Farragut had lead an attack group into the depths of the Sagitarian sector and confronted Constantine Siculus.  Destroyed the hives, for there had been two.  Triumph turned to puzzlement upon returning to find new hives hatching from the old battlegrounds.  

Farragut, newly returned to captain after disbanding the attack group circled the  desolate planet.  Baby gorgons followed in  _Merrimack’s_  path straining to reach her in the sky.  Couldn’t leave them there.  Couldn’t stay.  Rome had gone ominously silent.  It was only a matter of time before something ripped wide open  and  _Merrimack_  could NOT be in the deep end when it happened.  

“Unidentified object making a wide pass through the system.”  Said Tactical.  

Was not the declaration the captain had been expecting.  

“Unidentified how?”  He bounded to the man’s side.  Not Marcander Vincent.  Mr. Vincent had been demoted to third watch following his conduct on planet zero.  

“Unidentified as in never seen it before.  Ever”  The officer finished.  

“A real UFO?”  Farragut had seen a lot of things in his day.  Knew what was rare.  Knew when something was odd.  

“UFO on a path past the sun and out into the big black yonder.  Has no acceleration. Has a res pulse.”  

Could tell that.  Even at that distance the gorgons responded to the orbs passing.  

“Well what are we waiting for? Lets go great our new best friends!”  Captain Farragut’s exuberance was like sunshine.  Made a man forget all the problems in life.  The last thing  _Merrimack_  needed was more aliens.  Briefly leaving the gorgons of Telecore unattended  _Merrimack_  swung out to the edge of the solar system to collect her UFO.  

Tried to detach the engine outside the ship.  Couldn’t.  Darn thing was petrified in place.  Defying safety protocols the orb was brought aboard the ship whole.

 

Engineering and the Xenos were in an uproar.  Farragut let himself be summoned to the lab to hear what had them in such a tiff.

“You brought us a fossil!”  Said Weng

“Man made from the Stone Age!”  Said Ski

“So let me get this straight.  How old is that orb?”  John backed the xenos up.

“50,000 odd years old.” Said Weng.

“Puts it sometime in the Upper Paleolithic.”  Said Ski

That made a man pause for a moment.  The captain rolled the information around in his head.  “What is a man made, space faring, object with a resonant chamber doing in the stone age?”  

Weng:  “Not just man made.”

Ski:  “Roman made.”

“Well of course it is!”  Farragut clapped hands together.  The Xenos could tell him it could talk and he didn’t think he would be surprised.

Weng and Ski just stared at him.

“There’s more?”  They were going to tell him it talked.

Glancing at each other the two lab coats shifted awkwardly.

“Most of its systems are not operational right now-“

“-but its computer has code for what looks like stealth systems.”

“Really good stealth systems.”

“Better than anything we got right now good.”

“And holograms.”  Weng tagged on as an after thought.

John chuckled Kit must be having a field day.  The two Xenos continued to look at him funny.  

“There’s more?!”  Now he was starting to feel like some god was messing with him.

Ski handed him a data bubble.  “This was recorded in the orb’s computer.”

Uncapping it John listened in rapt astonishment to his own voice.

“-ohn!  Don’t shoot!-“  The voiced fizzed filled with static.

 

Hamster had the deck.  Kit was bouncing around like it was her birthday, the whole of engineering mobilized to sift through the UFO’s data.

John had retired to his bed.  Couldn’t sleep.  Listened to his voice telling him ‘don’t shoot” over and over.  His voice from 50,000 years ago.  Tired of trying to force sleep that wasn’t coming he got up.  Walking his ship always brought him a sense of calm.   _Merrimack’s_  noises a soothing background to his thoughts.  Letting his feet take him where they would he found himself outside the torpedo rack room.  

Done questioning the ways of the universe for the day he knocked on the hatch before letting himself in.  The hanger was the home away from home of the Roman patterner Augustus.  Had to billet the man down here.  Wasn’t a bunk on the ship could hold his giant 6’8 frame.  Not a man aboard who wanted Rome sleeping that close.  

Especially not Augustus.  A more caustic, venomous, afthole of a man there never was.  John found his brutal honesty more appealing than a coddled half truth any day.  

“Augustus!”  Farragut announced himself to the room.  Silence.  Augustus wasn’t home.  Had to be home.  Nowhere else on the ship he could be.  

Accept maybe the striker.  Augustus had lost his striker in a ploy to fake his death on planet zero.  Had found a new striker, used to belong to deceased patterner Secondus, also on planet zero.  John turned to head to the hanger.  Found his patterner looming in the doorway giving him an odd look.  At least he thought it was an odd look.  Augustus didn’t really change his look.

“There you are!”  He smiled striding over.  

“What are you doing here John Farragut?”  Augustus rumbled.  

“Couldn’t sleep.”  Said John.  The Roman seemed reluctant to leave the doorway so he began pacing the torpedo rack.  “Have you been down to engineering?”  

“I was chased out.”  Cocking his hip he leaned on the door frame.  

John laughed.  “Yeah Kit probably ran you out with a hammer.”  Dark hollow eyes blinked.  Took that as a sign he was right.  No one wanted to let the patterner look at the stealth data.  

“Why are you here John?”  Came the question again.  

“Have you heard this?”  He held out the data bubble.  “-ohn!  Don’t shoot!-“  

“I have now.”  Augustus followed him with his eyes while he paced, great head going back and forth like a bull.  

“And?”  

“And what?”  He cocked a brow.  

“What is my voice doing on a highly advanced 50,000 year old roman orb thingie?”  John laid it out for him.  “Where there Roman’s 50,000 years ago?”  

“Yes, there where suitably advanced space faring Romans in the stone age.”  Voice flat, Agustus was sassing him.  John played along.  

“What where they doing sending an orb out to Telecore?”  

The patterner let out a low breath.  “What do you want me to say John?  That you are special?  God’s chosen child?  What pattern do you expect me to see in this?”  

“Is there one?”  Couldn’t help but ask.  

“Only the consistent pattern of Farragut improbability.”  

John paused in his pacing to glance at Augustus.  Still standing in the door the patterner loomed.  “You look tired.”  Augustus always looked tired.  Didn’t know if he looked more tired than usual now.  Said it anyway.  

The Roman opened his mouth, closed it.  Glowered at him.  Maybe he should leave and go ask Jose Maria what he thought.  The Terra Rican aristocrat would most defiantly be sleeping at this hour.  Still, it was unfair to assume Augustus wasn’t tired simply because John wanted him to be awake.  

“I was waiting for something.”  The patterner interrupted him before he join him at the door.  “Oh?”  He paused his feet to regard him.  

Just then his personal com sprang to life with Lieutenant Hamilton’s voice.  “Captain’s presence requested on the command deck.”  

Before he could respond Augustus stood before him.  A big hand encircled his wrist.  Crushed his com with brutal force.  A ragged exhale escaped the captain as his vision went white for a moment.  Next he knew Augustus was behind him, useless hand twisted up to lock him in place.  

“Waiting for that.”  Augustus’ breath puffed against his ear.  

“Wha?”  Sweat beaded on John’s brow as his mind raced to catch up with the situation.  “Someone just declared didn’t they?”  His breath hitched as Augustus repositioned his wrist.  Tears pricked in his eyes.  

“Yes.”  The patterner confirmed.  He was walking his hostage out the door as he spoke  “Who?”  

“We did.”  

Rome.  A hand released its grip on John’s heart.  He’d been fixing to be real mad if it was the other way around.  Not that it helped him much currently.  

“I’m sure you have the same orders I do.”  Augustus’ laconic voice buffeted his ear. 

Shoot the bastard.  John had no gun.  Fist squeezed around the data bubble that told him  _‘John! Don’t shoot!’_   Couldn’t be more ironic if he tried.  

“Fortunately for you, my orders do not come from a legitimate government.”  A hand closed over his throat preventing the startled noise he would have made.  “I need you to let me out.”  Augustus breathed voice full of menace.  

John shook his head the little bit he could.  

“Oh I wasn’t asking you.”  

A fist to the throat smashed his larynx.  Farragut couldn’t breath.  Watched the world spin and turn colors.  Topped into the patterner’s arms.  Augustus wrenched his trachea open and Farragut inhaled fire.  Suddenly he was moving.  There was smoke, the ships atmosphere depressurized around him.  Was outside the hull.  Back inside  Augustus dropped him to the deck in a heap next to white and blue.  The striker.  Wasn’t black and red anymore.  Didn’t suit Augustus at all.  

The Roman used his retina print, fingerprint, —DNA to authorize his launch.  To override the command deck.  John struggled like a kitten.  Head spinning he vaguely registered when Augustus dragged him to the cargo bay.  Proped him up so he could breath.  

Turned to go.  Paused.  Bent to snag the data bubble from John’s limp fingers.  Didn’t know he was still holding it.  The barest brush of lips to the back of Farragut’s neck had all the air leaving his lungs in a rush of fire.  His eyes sought Augustus frantically.  

The patterner strode towards the hanger not looking back.  “This was a bit one sided.”  The battered warrior looked at him from atop his striker.  “John Farragut,  The next time we meet I will kill you.”  

“ _No you won’t._ ”  Farragut thought the words, mouthed them.  Didn’t know if Augustus heard him, read his lips, but the patterner blinked.  Cursed something fowl in Latin.  Holding up his fist he crushed the data bubble, dropping the ruined remains to the deck as he dropped into the striker.  

 

The day after Augustus’ departure, Farragut payed a visit to Don Jose Maria de Cordillera.  The  _Merrimack_  could no longer keep the neutral Terra Rican on board now that war had been declared.  Hated to see him go.  It seemed everyone he could speak freely to was leaving him all at once.  

John brought a new data bubble with him.  Played it for Jose Marie while they started packing his stuff.  Don cordillera sat on a box to listen the very picture of refinement.  

“This is a very odd message young commodore.”  

“It’s captain again.”  John reminded him.  The field promotion hadn’t been permanent.  “What do you think?”  He held the bubble in the center of his palm.  

“I think,”  Said Jose Maria carefully.  “That the universe is trying to tell you something.”  

“Funny,”  Farragut chuckled.  “I thought I was trying to tell myself something.”  

“Are you not a part of the universe?”  Said Jose Maria.  

Nodding Farragut accepted his part in the cosmic order.  “What’s the universe trying to say?”  He pressed.  

Crossing his long legs gracefully Don Cordillera looked him straight in the eye.  “I think it’s telling you not to shoot John.”  

 

On the way back to the command deck.  Farragut pocked his head into engineering.  Disgruntled engineers and erks ran past him at full tilt sloshing coffee behind them.  Kit’s voice could be heard barking curses— or where those orders? —over the top of it all.  Leaving a message with a haggard looking man holding a wrench, name was Tony Ruvollo, for Kit to speak with him first chance she got he made a quick exit.

 

“I want the patterner.”  

Numa was asking a lot Farragut thought.  He’d already come out into space to speak with the Triumphalis.  He wasn’t about to let Numa in on the secret that Augustus wasn’t his to give.  “I won’t hand him over.”  

Numa laughed.  “Watching you bluff is as amusing as he said.”  

John arched a brow.  “What makes you think I’m bluffing Numa?”  

“Augustus dropped by  _Gladiator_  for a visit.”  

That sent John’s brows right up into his hair line.  “Augustus came to you?”  

“Indeed I just said.”  Numa rolled his eyes.  

“And you didn’t keep him?”  

The Triumphalis face grew dark.  “Do not presume it is my job to keep the patterner on a leash.”  

“I thought your Caesar wanted him on a leash very badly.”  Farragut nettled.  

Numa’s face was easy to read.  “He’s not my Caesar.  Not yet.”  

 

“The Striker is your responsibility,  _Merrimack_.  Take it out.”   _Don’t let the patterner walk over you this time._

John Farragut got it.  Knew bringing Augustus in was his responsibility.  Had always been his responsibility.  Clutched the data bubble tight in his hand, rubbed the tingle at the nape of his neck with the other.  Called for Kit Kittering.  The battle raged around Palatine.  Hot and heavy.  The hand at the helm changed constantly as he talked.  

“Mr. Kittering are any of the things I discussed with you a possibility?”  

Taking a turn at the wheel Kit bobbled and dove.  “The hook is still only a fracking prototype.  Got the fornicating stealth systems loaded on your missile real good.  Not that I understand what you’re about sticking a stealth field ON someone.”  She handed the helm off to Gypsy.  

In the days after the fuss over the stealth system had calmed down Farragut had asked Mr. Kittering for two things.  A missile that could attach the new system to another craft and a hook that was able to grab a hostile fighter.  

“What you fixing to trot with?”  The head engineer had shaken her head but did as the captain asked.  

“I want that stealth missile armed and ready to go on my word.”  Thought for a moment.  “Get that hook ready too.”  

Gypsy’s face grew dark.  “Sir we are in the middle of a brawl I hardly think this is the time to be testing new toys.”  

“Normally you’d be right Mr. Dent but you forgot, we’re brawling with a patterner.”  Captain Farragut’s smile was bright and terrible.  “We need everything we’ve got.”  

He almost felt pride as he watched the newly black and red striker wasp by them like a hornet.  Augustus had found a coat of paint somewhere.  

“Put me on the old attack harmonic.”  he told the com tech.  

“Aye sir you are ready to resonate, sir.”  

“Augustus!”  Farragut didn’t bother to introduce himself.  “This two sided enough for you this time?”  

“Yes.”  Came the familiar laconic voice.  

“Why are your buddies shooting at you over there?”  

“There’s money in it.”  Bounty on the patterner’s head.  

With the com on mute he directed targeting.  “Get a shot lined up his barrel with the stealth missile.”  Flicked the come back on to start a conversation.  

“Sounds like Romulus really really wants to say hi.”  

“Got a line up my barrel yet?”  

His sharp inhale was probably audible over the com.  

“John you couldn’t displace yourself to a surprise christmas party even if all the lights were green.”  

The striker jinked, veered off on a wild line.  “Don’t loose him!”  Farragut ordered.  

 _Merrimack_  followed the striker on a merry chase around the planet ending around one of Palatine’s moons.  Little thing would fit inside the Mediterranean sea.   _Merrimack_  circled the bright orb.  

“Where’s the striker?”  Farragut asked.  

“Orbiting on the far side from us, sir.”  

“Stop all movement.”  He ordered.  Waited for the striker to come around.  It didn’t.  “What’s he doing?”  

“Striker has stopped on the opposite side from us!”  Tactical could see no ordinance curving around the moon to meet them.  

“Get me that missile lined up. Have all forward torpedoes, all forward beams on standby.”  

“Stealth missile in position.  Torpedoes standing by, beams standing by.”  

“Engineering hows that hook?”  

“Ready as it’ll ever be sir.”  Kit left off the swears.  

“Stand by to clear the moon on my command. Take the  _Mack_  straight up and open the gun ports.  We’re going to hit him head on.”  

Gypsy breathed deep, clasped her hands behind her back.  Said goodbye to her kids.  

Gripping the data bubble tight in his hands Farragut said a silent prayer.  ‘John!  Don’t shoot!’  “Fire.”

 

Couldn’t hear the missile hiss as it raced through empty space.  Wished you could, the silence was hard to take.  Bright light erupted like the sun, like lightening.  

The silence, the lack of a shot left a gaping maw in the captain’s chest where his heart should have been beating.  John Farragut didn’t think he would have been more surprised had Augustus kissed him.

“Hit!  We have a hit!”  Targeting cried.  

 _“Yeah!”_   The command crew jumped to their feet in excitement.  They were alive, couldn’t believe it.  

“Confirm Striker’s condition!”  Anxious tendrils gripped Farragut’s heart like a vine.  Didn’t know when they had taken root.  Seemed to be coming from the back of his neck.  

No one out draws a patterner.  Augustus had wanted him to shoot him.  And he had.  

 _‘John!  Don’t shoot!’_   

He’d shot.  What would 50,000 year old John Farragut think?  

“Striker is not responding.”  Said tactical.  

“Incoming!”  Targeting screeched.   _Gladiator_  loomed bigger than the moon.  

“Tag the striker!”  Gypsy Dent shouted over the noise.  

“Tags away.  Tagged…  _Gladiator_!”  

“Fire!”  Gypsy ordered not about to let a tag go to waist.  Hard ordinance thudded into  _Gladiator’s_  shields.  Might as well have been flies.  

“Tagged  _Gladiator_  again!”  

“Keep firing!”

“Engage stealth systems!”  Farragut ordered.  

“Engaging stealth… It’s not working!”  Engineering cried.  

“Keep trying!”  John watched the striker’s remains slowly disappearing behind  _Gladiator’s_  maw.  The Roman ship was maneuvering itself between  _Merrimack_  and the wreckage of the striker.  

“Lasso the striker!”  Farragut ordered.  

“Lasso away.  Got him.”  Engineering reported.  

“Gladiator is sending out a hook.”  Tactical warned.  

“Kit turn that lasso into our new hook!”  

“Captain it’s not—“  

“Don’t care!”  

“Aye aye sir.”  Kit said shakily.  “Engaging intermembrane.”  

Slowly the  _Mack’s_  shields stretched to encompass the the striker in two layers of shield.  Raced Gladiator to the close. 

“Hook secure!  intermembrane holding steady.”  Engineering didn’t sound like they believed their own readings.  Kit let out a whoop.  

Alarms blared across the deck.  “Shields stretched passed the limit.  Balk!”  Systems tech cried.  “ _Gladiator’s_  going to crack us like an egg!”  

“Evade!”  Gypsy barked as a shot cracked into  _Merrimack’s_  side.  John winced, his boat wasn’t supposed to make sounds like that.  Jinking hard to port they tried to run.  Couldn’t go FTL with their passenger.   _Gladiator_  marked them like a bloodhound.  Another shot slammed into the ship.   _Merrimack_  screamed.  Tactical crossed himself.  

“Drop hook!”  Gypsy ordered.  

“Bely that!”  

“Sir we are not going to die beca—“   

Farragut cut her off.  “Reverse away from Palatine best speed!  Get striker on  _Mack’s_  space ward side!”   _Merrimack_  backpedaled out of Palatine’s airspace just short of FTL.  

“Striker between us and space.”  Engineering reported.  

“ _Gladiator_  bearing down!”  Systems shook in her seat.  

“On my go release hook.  Punt striker as hard as we can.  Engineering get that stealth system up!”  

“Aye aye Captain, standing by to release hook.”  

Alarms blared.  Numa had lined up another shoot.  

“Now!”  

John didn’t think he’d felt a higher rush of adrenalin in his life.  There was a slam, sent the whole deck rocking and tumbling.  Gypsy grabbed the com station, Farragut grabbed her.   _Merrimack’s_  screens flooded white.  

Blinking the light from his eyes John took in his command deck.  Anything not bolted to the floor had been sent for a ride.  Papers fluttered, cups rolled across the floor.  Not quite believing it he brought his hand to his face.  Inside his fist the data bubble sang “-ohn!  Don’t shoot!”  

Someone cleared their thought from dangerously close to him.  Looking down he met Gypsy’s scowl and quickly let her go.  

They were alive.  The wave crashed over him and he road it.  Bounding out among his crew he crowed.  “Look alive people!  We’re not dead yet!”  

Groans rang out as specialists righted themselves at their posts.  Farragut was like a ball of fire, burning through each station.  

“Targeting find me Gladiator.  

“Systems how are our shields.  

“Engineering, damage report.  

“Tactical where’s the striker.  

“Get it together and lets go kick some Roman backside!”  

“Yes sir!”  

John Farragut had just become a god to the men and women sitting at their stations.  He was their guardian angel.  A divine force that held his children to his chest as he set to wreck wrath and ruin upon their enemies.  

“ _Gladiator_  at three o’clock.  Holding position.  He can’t chase and leave Palatine!”  

“Shields back to 100%!”  

“Fire in forward gun port. contained.  Big mess in the galley.  is that… cake?”  

“Striker has dropped off radar.  Engineering, did stealth engage?”  

“Engineering, aye stealth engaged.  Striker has gone dark.”  

 _Merrimack_  put herself to rights and prepared to chase  _Gladiator_  back to Palatine.  

Admiral Burk returned to the com.  “ _Merrimack_  move to FTL immediately.”  Stopped them dead in the water.  

“But admiral—“  Farragut wanted to snarl, wanted to roar, chest too tight head too full of epinephrine.  “Do not test me captain.”  Burk growled.  “I should ground you for the shit you just pulled!”  

Deep breath, let it out like air escaping a balloon.  “Yes sir.”  

Admiral sounded the order for the fleet to retreat to FTL.

 

“What do you mean no one’s found the striker?!”  Romulus raged.  

He’d had his heart set on seeing the patterner’s head on a platter.  The platter was ready.  There was no head.  They needed to get him a head or he would choose one of the useless people here and use theirs instead.  Would very much like it to be Numa’s.  

The Triumphalis knelt before him.  Shoulders set too proud for someone who’d just screwed up as bad as ha had.  “As I said my Caesar.  The striker is gone.”  

Romulus tucked his hands in tight, resisted the urge to rub his arms convulsively.  There was a perfect shot through his bunker and the man who’d done it was still at large.  

“We believe the US has developed a new—“  He tuned the head of imperial intelligence out as he imagined the patterner out there stalking him like a wolf.  No, not a wolf, that was the symbol of Rome.  Augustus was no better than a beast!  

“We need to analyze this new data and—“  The intelligence agent’s words were cut off as the doors to the reception hall were flung open.  

“What’s this about loosing the patterner?”  In walked Claudia dressed in the finest silk.  Emeralds glittered on her nails the smell of flowers wafted gently around her.  Would never have known she had been hiding in a bunk only hours earlier.  

Taking strength from her presence Romulus composed himself.  “Yes, my great general here failed to swat a fly.”  

“I would like to see his excellency try holding a wasp in his hand.”  Numa rumbled, boring into Romulus with his stare.  

 _SMACK!_   

Claudia’s emeralds sliced four neat lines across the Triumphalis’ cheek.  “How dare you speak to my brother like that!  How dare you—!”  She cut off abruptly, staring at nothing.  

“ _Why are you here!_ ”  The sudden screech brought Numa to his feet.  Brought Romulus quickly to his sister’s side.  Claudia was rigid radiating hatred, fear, at empty space.  “ _Get out!_ ”  She cried.  

The guards and intelligence agents scanned the chamber for light bouncers or pinpoint sound packets.  Anything that could be causing the lady’s behavior.  

“Seems someone is seeing Banquo’s ghost.”  Numa murmured, blood gathering in straight lines on his scratched face.  

“ _I heard that!_ ”  Romulus rounded on him, the flames of his rage burning hot as fire and brimstone.  “Numa what have you done to my sister?!”  

The mountain of muscle spoke as if addressing a small child.  “I let her slap me.  Now enough with these ridiculous tantrums.”  

Romulus detonated.  “ _Slay this man!_ ”  He ordered his guards.  Uncertain they looked between Numa and their Caesar.  The Triumphalis was not a man to be slain easily.  An entire mountain must be scaled first.  Numa didn’t even blink.  

Claudia wailed scratching at her hands.  Distracted Romulus turned to her.  Made to take her hands in his.  Stopped stepped back.  “Claudia please, stop this, you will hurt yourself.”  He pleaded.  

“ _You’re not real!  You’re not real!_ ” She cried.  

“Caesar, if I may.”  The intelligence agent stepped forward.  Distraught, powerless to help Romulus turned back to the man.  

“Speak.”  

“Let the Curia take the Triumphalis in for testing.  If he has harmed your sister you may extract your vengeance.”  

Exhausted Romulus waved a hand in dismissal.  “Very well.  Get him out of my sight.”

 

The bridge.  

Romulus was raving at shadows no one could see.  Jose Maria was safe, the  _Sulla_  would be a grave no more.  And here he found himself back on Corindahlor.  

Back?  He’d never been here before.  But for a moment it had felt ghostly familiar.  Still did in a way.  Still did because the stark greys and massive cables reminded him of the patterner as much as black and red side by side did.  

No one had found the striker.   _Merrimack_  had gone back to look for it after Romulus had burned himself out at the vatican.  The stealth field had proved it’s worth.  Proved it a bit too much if you asked the crew of the  _Merrimack_.  Admiral Burk had ordered he return with the striker or face a court marshal for treason.  

Hadn’t found the striker.  Had just been returning to face the music when news of the Hive’s reappearance in near space reached the  _Mack_.  Any military justice was put on hold till the gorgon threat was gone.  And then there had been the  _Sulla_  to rescue.  

Standing on Corindahlor bridge next to the monument of the tenth John Farragut breathed deeply.  It was fixing to be the last air he got in a long while.  Looking down at the sphere cradled in his palm— John.  Don’t shoot, huh? —he sighed.  

“What has you so down young captain?”  Jose Maria rested his hands on the railing beside him.  Together they turned their faces into the brisk salt wind.  

“Do you think…”  He rocked the data bubble in his palm.  “Do you think if I didn’t have this I would have…”  Killed Augustus?  He’d probably done that anyway.  

“That Augustus would have been…”  Found?  With Rome?  Not floating in space as a piece of wreckage?  Didn’t matter.  Angrily he hunched into the wind.  

“That things would have turned out better?”  He finally finished.  

Watching the gulls as they swerved and dived Jose Maria spoke.  “How are things bad John?  We are alive, a mad dictator has been dethroned and you have upheld your honor.  To yourself and to Augustus.”  

Farragut wanted to yell.  What does strength and honor get me if I damn myself for it!  Swallowed it down like a bitter medicine.  

Instead said.  “Do you think there’s a different timeline, a different universe out there where this John lived?  Did he shoot Augustus?  Did he regret it so much that he had to disrupt space and time to tell me?”  

“That is a lot of ifs young captain.”  Jose Maria said sadly.  “Besides, changing history is not possible.”  

They fell silent as the gulls called.  Farragut was in no hurry to get back to his ship and the charges that awaited him on earth.  

“Shall we not pay Augustus a visit?”  Jose Maria finally asked.  

Nodding he pushed himself off the railing, watched Don Cordillera’s lithe back as he headed for the monument.  Letting the data bubble fall over the side of the bridge he heard the splash as it entered the water.  Walked away.  

The monument was simple, steadfast.  A fitting tribute for the few against the many.  Augustus had had a few cynical things to say about its youthful idealism of martyrdom.   _‘Come children!  Look how grand it is to be dead!’_   

John had tried to tell him that was disrespectful of the men buried here.  Of himself.  “Because you would know what the dead think John, magical Farragut.  The dead don’t think.  Dead is dead.”  Looking at the names of the Roman tenth he still didn’t agree.  

Found Augustus in the Flavian century list.  

Cyprian Flavius Cassius.  

Hesitated.  

Touched the name.  

Heard Jose Maria gasp, and then something whacked him in the head.  

“John you flaming idiot Farragut.”  

Felt a strange sense of calm, like hearing Augustus’ voice at that moment was the most natural thing in the world.  Turned to find the holo image that had given Jose Maria such a fright.  Almost jumped out of his skin.  

The Augustus that stood before them was not a holo image.  Could tell from the chunk missing from the back of his head, the grim scowl on his face.  “I should kill you for the shit you pulled.”  

Should kill you.  

Should.  

Farragut hung on that one word.  Augustus marched right into his personal space.  Stooped to crowd him even further.  “Why must you always meddle?  You’ve made things inordinately harder than they needed to be.”  

John blinked.  “I’m sorry?”  He offered.  

“Well that’s nice.”  Augustus stalked away as quickly as he’d marched forward.  Went to greet Jose Maria just as tersely.  

John didn’t know what to do with himself.  His patterner had risen from the dead on the third day.  The back of his neck tingled something fierce.  Rubbing it he glanced down and spied the object that must have been thrown at his head earlier.  It was a data bubble.  

He hadn’t.  

Reaching down he picked it up, flipped it open expecting to here his own voice.  

It wasn’t.  

This time it was the holo image Augustus he’d been expecting.  Told him he was dead, told him that was fine and to hell with all the moaning and groaning.  Made some symbols appear on the bridge that might have been numbers.  Intrigued, Jose Maria stepped forward to look at them.  

Farragut’s personal com came to life.  “John!  What did you do?”  It was admiral Mishindi.  

Farragut scratched his head perplexed.  “What did I do?”  

“I’m getting reports from all over deep space that gorgons are melting or freezing solid just like the last time you beat the hive.”  

Farragut looked away from the admiral to meet the patterer’s dark stare.  Augustus was looking right at him.  Sent a shiver down his spine.  

“I… may have done something.”  

Jose Maria was already climbing around the side of the bridge.  “I have found it.”  He slid down among the supports to inspect the resonant chambers.  

“I’ll report when I have something more definite sir.”  He clicked off.  

“Rome was supposed to have those.”  Agustus growled.  “Now I will have to pay a visit to Numa to give it to them.”  

“Numa is missing and suspected of infecting Claudia with nano machines.”  Farragut brought Augustus up to speed.  

“Yes I imagine the Triumphalis is not to pleased with me right now.”  Augustus took the information in stride smiling wolfishly.  

“Any relation to you?”  Asked Jose Maria, rejoining them.  

“Come now Don Cordillera for someone so bright you are being remarkably dim.”  

“Age may be catching up with me.”  The nobel laureate demurred.  

“You went to see Numa after leaving the  _Merrimack_.”  Said Farragut. 

“My back up in case I failed to die.”  He said it as an accusation eyes boring dark holes over Farragut’s head.  

Farragut was not about to apologize for making him use plan B.  

“What happened to your head?”  He asked instead.

“That was the next plan.  If Numa failed.”

“You gouged out your own head?!”  Farragut said aghast.  That was pretty grisly even for Augustus.  “Isn’t that against your wiring?”

“Yes John, it is.”  Augustus hissed.  “I have you to thank for the giant hole in my head.”  Farragut blinked.  “Really?”

“Oh yes,”  Augustus prowled away to look out over the bridge.  “Well intentioned idiot that you are that missile still made a mess of my ship.”  

“The striker survived?!”  That was pretty incredible.

The look Augustus was giving him told him he was stupid.  “How do you think I got here?”  

Farragut walked out on the bridge to join him.  “I don’t know, maybe you got a flight of space fairing geese to drag you.”  He waved an arm at the bridg’s feathered menagerie.  

“Maybe if I was you.”  The patterner growled low and menacing.

John didn’t think that would ever work on him again.

Jose Maria, making some excuse about needing to walk his dog, disappeared back to the  _Mercedes_.  John and Augustus stayed on the empty bridge.  

“Why did you have so many different plans?”  

“Because you are an unreasonable nuisance with far too much time on your hands.  There happy?”  The patterner’s voice dripped acid.  Silence returned.  

Looking at their hands on the railing Farragut said.  “You weren’t sure I would shoot.”  Smiled smugly.  

“Oh you would have shot.”  Augustus didn’t even spare him a glance.  “But then you came to me with this.”  Held another data bubble up between his first two fingers.  Gingerly John accepted the little orb.  Augustus’ fingers brushed his palm sending icicles up his arm.  Flipped it open 

“—ohh!  Don’t shoot!”  

Where had he gotten this?  Farragut had watched him crush the copy he carried with his own hand.  Unsure if Augustus read the question from his face or anticipated it from the start.  He nodded down towards the river.  

“You didn’t.”  

Couldn’t believe it.  

“Augustus the dread patterner, slayer of kings, dove into the river for a data bubble?”  He couldn’t help but chuckle.  

“Laugh all you like.”  Augustus frowned.  “50,000 year old John, I’m a prat Farragut shot my plans straight to hell.”  

“Messed with your pattern?”  Present John bounced the ball in his hand.  

“No.  The pattern is always there, it just changes. You can always reach the same result but you may have to go about it differently.”  Augustus was looking at him now, gaze deep and dark, eyes like two endless pits.  

John swallowed hard.  “What are you going to do now?”  He choked.  Internally cursing his shaking voice.  

Luckily Augustus released him, looked back out over the silent water.  

“You could go back to being Cyprian Flavius Cassius.”  John shrugged a shoulder towards the monument.  

Augustus snorted.  “I tire of telling you, that man is dead.”  

“But not gone.”  John challenged.  

The bull head swiveled back to him.  “You think it is simple?  Stepping back into the skin of a man you have no memory of being?  For all I am now lacking I am still Augustus, not that glory seeker on the bridge.”  

John returned his dour stare with a smile.  “Well I think you still have that in common with Cyprus.”  

“What I seek is not glory.  Romulus’ death will not bring Rome honor.”  

“But it’s still worth your life to kill him.”  

“And yet I still have it.”  Augustus rumbled.  “And who do I have to curse for that?”  

John didn’t understand.  

“I may no longer be able to carry out my function but I am still a patterner long past my expiration date.  You have saved a corpse.”  

There wasn’t anything to say after that.  The gulls wheeled in silence for a long moment.  A black blur passed beneath them followed by Jose Maria at a more sedate pace.  

“I fell backwards.”  John started as Augustus broke the stalemate with his cryptic comment.  

“Pardon?”  He felt like the code to understanding Augustus was right in front of him accept someone had written it in a different language.  

“When you hit the striker.  I fell backwards.”  

John blinked, the memory of Augustus standing in the torpedo rack telling him how he’d died swam before his eyes.  He shook his head, unsure what to say in this new language they were speaking.  Opened his mouth, closed it.

“Do not try to tell me there is no backwards in space.”  The patterner eyed him.  “My head is full of wires and they know down better than your primitive instincts ever could.”  

Farragut looked down at the river, at the data bubble in his hand, up at Augustus.  Started making sense of the words Augustus was speaking.  Smiled shakily.  

“In the military we have a saying.  ‘Redundancy is good.  Redundancy is good.  Redundancy is good.’”  

There was a slight upward turn to Augustus’ lips as looked across the bridge.  “John, how many times have I failed to shoot you?”  

Holding up his fingers Farragut counted them off.  “At the myriad.  When you left the  _Mack_.  At Palatine.”  

Three.

Now that was a pattern.

The back of his neck tingled.  

Bending down Augustus brushed a kiss to his skin.  

Taking a deep breath, John kissed him square on the mouth.  John knew how to kiss.  Didn’t know how to kiss Augustus.  Didn’t need to.  It seemed to be coded into his brain.  Rooted in his heart.  

Breaking apart he smiled.  “I think you owe me more than three of those.”  He grinned.  

Augustus glowered.  “John Farragut, you are an idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how much this fic didn't want to get written. Between almost failing to obtain the books, moving, getting a new job, loosing water for several days along with many other things, this story was as elusive as Augustus. I am no expert with Latin, the bible, or the military. If I've mucked something up horribly well, I'll just have to create a time paradox and fix it now won't I? I apologize, your patterner was very hard to get ahold of. He refused to show up till a ridiculous amount of side material was created. Hope this fulfills your request at least a little bit. Merry Christmas!


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